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She sits at her computer, type, type, typing away...posting, hoping, that maybe her online facade will cover her true identity-who she calls her "true" self. But who has not ever questioned what that was? A paradox, indeed, and in dire need of fixing.
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It's December and next week she has to wear pajama's. Yes. Pajamas. In winter. On Monday. No choice really. But she doesn't care. She's all for school spirit. The need to fiercely represent a greater entity-her school. Type, type type. There's more to say, indefinatly more, but no one's there to really listen. Online persona's hurt to keep up. She wonders, Does he even think of me sometimes? and she remembers the warm smile and only gets those knots in her stomach that tell her she just might get a bitter sweet sickness of the worst kind and it's only to be expected that she doubts that he would...
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Monday. No 0 period=more time to sleep in. But she doesn't want to get up. She doesn't want to go back to sleep either. It's Monday. Heck, she won't need to change-just the leapord-print baggy jammie bottoms and that matching button-up top will do. Better though throw a sweater over it for good measure. She wonders if they'll get too dirty and promises that if anyone spills anything on them she'll sue. Not really. But it's nice to dream. Just not....some dreams...Better go to school.
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Type, type, type....it's habitual now. Addicting. Type, type type....he smiled at her again. That innocent smile that seemed like it had nothing to hide but had everything to withold. Yet another paradox. Type, type, type...
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Tuesday-scarf and mittons. She can do that. And it's definaltly more sutible. But she knows she'll have to see him again....Does he ever think of me?...she must be sure to keep her grades up or else there goes her chances of seeing him outside of school. But why would that matter if she desperatly wants to yet...doesn't? Yet another paradox....
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Wednesday. Holly-day. Who ever came up with that name? A bit lame really for a day that just wants you to wear green and red. But she won't speak much about that, for or against it. All things considered, she just lives to see his smile and it's killing her to do so....Does he ever think about me?...Green-yellow eyes will question, but she won't answer, for the answers only knot her stomach into indefinately tighter knots and while she wants to let him go she can't and its all just one confusing jumble of emotions that only get more complicated when he smiles that devistatingly innocent, everlasting smile. She cries inside, but practice has forced the dams in her hazel eyes to never break down. It's only Wednesday.
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Thursday. Santa Hat day galore. Just as expected-it's not hard for school wide participation to burts in full bloom. She should feel proud but she's just all cold inside and his questioning, hesitant green-yellow eyes aren't helping. They hold hands and it's her idea to go to the quad area for candy canes and hot chocolate but she won't let him pay and she's not loaded but her mother gave her just enough for this day. She wants to hide but she must put up apperances and that hot chocolate looks so good....she wonders about all the waste it would be to spill it and she makes sure she doesn't but she knows full well that that thought refuses to preoccupy her mind when he leans down and says as much that he loves her in a gentle kiss and a smile. But she can't take that sweet paradox of innocence and firey longing and she breaks away running. Hot chocolate spills are all that he can stare at numbly in her absence. The bell rings.
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She's typing away again. Paradox, Paradox....Why does he have to smile like that? The keys tick faster, Paradox, Paradox, Paradox, she doesn't want to cry but it's just so hard to keep holding it in and she wishes that she had only said those three little words back even if it would hurt to say them. The chocolate stains on her shirt remind her of that terrible act....she shakes her head to clear her mind bu it oh so hard to get the memory of his kiss and his words and what she really needs to do is knit to keep her mind off him....she grabs he bag and works on the 5th hat for her leadership class....
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Friday. Spirit day. A dreaded return. She wears the colors of her school but that's no antidote for his quite, worried expression and he meows a bit to make her laugh but it only succeeds in making her want to cry. He pets her head gently and his green-yellow eyes are wounded and now she feels terrible because she hurt him but can't say anything because her throat's all choked up. She can't cry or hide and she wishes his smile wasn't burned into her memory. Embeded. Will she cry? maybe so, maybe nevr, but certainly not in front of him. She has a test and it comes back with A's scrawed all over it and it screams achivement centeral yet something's wrong and she's not feeling proud. She doesn't know why and when he sees her between passing periods she lets him catch a gilmpse of her war-torn, tear streaked face, but he can't do anything about it becasue she won't let him.
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After school. He calls, but there's no answer. He calls later and gets nothing but a busy signal. He puts down the phone, frustrated, but picks up a game controller and soon forgets why he was ever worried at all....
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She waits for his call, but how foolish she feels when it rings and it's him but she suddenly doesn't want to pick up. He minds all messed up and she can't stop crying and she knows she'll tie up the lines but she really needs to type all that's been wrondg in her life. Besides, he wouldn't remember her....Why would he care?...She wan't to see his smile but doesn't want to lie to make that innocent belief that nothings amiss haunt he conscious....
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9:00 P.M.-he calls and it goes through. She won't pick up and now he's feeling really bad about who knows what, and even he's not so sure what he did wrong becasue he knows that's just how he is and blowing people up in Halo just isn't fun anymore. What he really wanted was to talk to her, but she wouldn't answer. That busy signal came back to him and he nearly broke the phone slamming it down. He wishes she'd call soon...
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No answer. She want to avoid the phone at all cost but she can't take not talking to him after not even saying much to him at school. But her internet life was more important....or was it? she can't even type one keystroke without sobbing and she can't see the screen because her salty tears sting her vision and she wishes her art teacher who was so awsome would stay but she knows that she can't think about anything but him and his gentle everlasting smile. She signs off and grabs the phone with shaky hands. She dials breathlessly, wonders what she can say when all too soon she hears his deep voice and it's all she can do from crying but the sob can't come out of her voice. He knows something is wrong and it comes out in a rush-how, really, she wanted him to show "true" affection without having to take the lead, how she is oh so bothered by his fetish over Naruto trading cards and why she now might have a paranoia of hot chocolate on Thrusdays, and she really doesn't want to loose him and how could he not see that she really loved him very much but on his end, he didn't seem to care enough? He's silent, listening and he knows his own faults. He knows she's right and she's not nit-picky but he can't bear hearing her soft pirecing sobs and he wished that he could have the gift of eloquent words to ease her doubting heart and be worthy of her. What he doesn't know is how she desperately wants to be worthy of him and the tears won't stop flowing, it's getting late and he has to go, but he won't care if it's just a bit longer becasue he wants to make sure she's alright. And she doesn't know it, maybe, not now and doesn't understand it yet, but he really, truely loves her. Maybe the memory of his everlasting smile in her mind will convince her-someday.



~First story ever here. Based on real life of course, but in futuristic sence, considering that the week in question is next week. It actually hurt to write this, since this was so close to my life.